


Broken and Jagged Pieces

by TheWalkingGrimes



Series: Tales of District Four [8]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: (photos), Annie finds out, Anxiety, Discussed sex trafficking, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, PTSD, not explicit though but the premise may be disturbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingGrimes/pseuds/TheWalkingGrimes
Summary: Annie receives an unwelcome envelope, and some pieces fall into place.
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair
Series: Tales of District Four [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018845
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	Broken and Jagged Pieces

There’s an envelope waiting for Annie when she gets home one day.

It’s sitting on the kitchen table, white and thick with nothing written on it. Annie opens it, assumes that it’s from Mags who left today to help guide the trainees on their traditional survival weekend.

Photos spill out onto the table and the images are already seared into her mind before she can begin to process them.

There are limbs, naked and twisting around each other. Hands pressing down, sometimes grabbing forcefully. Bruises and bite marks. Tongues and mouths and fingers caressing and stroking. A menagerie of different bodies: dark, light, purple, green, silver, male, female, unclear.

But there’s one common denominator: 

_ Finnick. _

Annie shoves the photos back into the envelope with a harsh cry. 

Nonononononononononono. 

She doesn’t want to see this. She wants to  _ unsee  _ this. It’s bad enough to catch glimpses of parties and flirting and morning-after departures from strange apartments on the news - bad enough that everything,  _ everyone  _ is always a constant reminder that she’ll never be good enough for him.

But this is - there’s always been part of her that believed it was exaggerated for the cameras. Even though she  _ knows  _ he has trysts when he’s in the Capitol, she assumed it was more for the sake of letting off steam and not nearly as overplayed as the gossip channels make it out to be - or how he lets them. 

It’s not as if he behaves like that  _ here,  _ when he’s home.

_ (The other night, they’d been sitting on the beach, feet dipping into the waves and talking about childhood memories.  _

_ “You stole my clothes once,” Annie told him, wrinkling her nose at him. “You probably don’t remember-” _

_ “Of course, you yanked me into the water. Then when I tried to offer you a truce you wouldn’t take my hand.”  _

_ “I thought you were trying to trick me.”  _

_ “I wasn’t - maybe I’m remembering this wrong but I think I wanted to be friends. I thought you were funny. But you ran away and wouldn’t speak to me.” _

_ And Annie looked at him, at his sweet face with those endearing eyes that seemed to only ever be for her, and did the only thing that made sense to her. _

_ She kissed him. _

_ For a moment that’s all there was - just Annie and Finnick, in their own little world, lips colliding. His hands flew up to cradle her face between them, shaking but strong and she felt his tongue push into her mouth. She opened eagerly for him, wanting nothing but this - nothing but them. Because this felt more right than anything ever had, dizzying and terrifying and  _ safe.

_ And then, abruptly, he pushed her away. _

_ “Annie -” Even in the dark of the beach, she could see that his pupils were blown wide. He glanced nervously around, gaze catching on the groups of people near them. As if he were afraid to be seen. Afraid to be seen with  _ her.  _ “Annie,  _ no. _ We can’t do this.” _

_ “I’m okay.” Annie promised, sure of this, sure of them. “I know what I’m doing. I  _ want  _ you Finnick.” _

_ His eyes clouded and his face twisted with something she didn’t recognize. _

_ “You can’t have me.”) _

* * *

Annie takes her time and freaks out about it. She almost considers destroying the pictures, but realizes she can’t.

Someone  _ took  _ these photos and while it’s possible that Finnick knew it’s also possible that he didn’t. That someone is stalking him, or blackmailing him. It’s possible that these pictures weren’t even meant for her. It could have been for Mags, or even for Finnick - all their houses are all so similar, and Finnick almost spends more time in Mags’s house than he does his own. She has to show them to him.

That doesn’t mean Annie has to look him in the eye when she does.

Finnick comes over around two, and he’s in such a bright mood that it almost shatters her. He’s been distant since the beach, like he’s trying not to give her the wrong idea. Doesn’t want her to interpret his friendship as interest. But today he’s cheerful and affectionate, even if he doesn’t greet her with a hug and a kiss on her head like he would have  _ before. _

While he prattles on about some probably mostly fabricated story from the marketplace, Annie watches his fingers drum against the table. She tries not to think of all the places those fingers have been.

“Annie?” 

She looks up to see him watching her, with that calculating edge that he can never really shake off no matter how relaxed or at peace he is. Annie wonders if he was born that way or if it’s something he’s been molded into. Either way, it’s part of who he is now, even at his gentlest.

“Where’d you go?”

Annie shakes her head. “Nowhere,” she replies honestly. “Just -” Her fingers tremble against the envelope that she’s hiding in her lap under the edge of the table. “I should show you something.”

“Okay?” Finnick looks a bit bemused, but not threatened. She’s never been a threat to him, never done anything to seriously hurt him before. 

_ (except, maybe, when she kissed him and she thought that’s what he wanted before he pushed her away). _

She lifts the envelope up and sets it on the table. “Th-this was waiting on the table when I got home. I thought it was for me - that Mags left me something before she went on her trip, but…”

Annie can’t bring herself to slide it toward him. 

Finnick’s face is blank as he reaches across and takes it from her. His hands are shaking again, she notices.

He opens the envelope cautiously, not spilling out all the photos like she had. It only takes a few seconds for him to realize what it contains.

A low, hurt sound hisses out of him and Finnick curls his hand that is holding the envelope into a fist, as if he can crush it down and make it disappear from existence. His other hand goes to his hair, his arm blocking his face from her as he crumples in on himself. 

“Oh god. Oh god. _ Oh god oh god.” _

“I’m sorry.” Annie is still upset and hurt but more than anything now she’s upset _for_ him. Because it is now very clear that these photos were not taken with his knowledge. “I would have destroyed them but I didn’t - I figured I should show you first.”

Finnick is just shaking his head, rocking back and forth, hiding from her. He looks like how Annie imagines  _ she  _ must look during one of her fits. 

She tries to reach for him, the way that he reaches for and holds her, a steady anchor against the world, but he cries out and scrambles away from her, until he’s sitting hunched in the corner of the kitchen on the floor.

Annie is at a loss… and she’s scared. She didn’t think - Finnick just seems so  _ shameless  _ especially when he’s in the Capitol. He’s different there, she knows that, knew that it would likely bother him to see that world brought into their little world here. She’d thought he’d be angry, or worried, focused on figuring out how these pictures found their way into the home that Mags and Annie shared.

Instead - he’s completely falling into bits right in front of her.

“Finnick.” Annie says quietly, keeping her distance. She cares about him, trusts him, loves him even  _ (not in love though, can’t be in love)  _ but there is still a distance between them and she know he lies to her sometimes and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to silence the little voice that says  _ runrunrunrunrunrun  _ whenever she’s around him. “Finnick, tell me what’s wrong.”

He just shakes harder.

“Finnick,  _ talk to me.”  _ She orders him, more surety in her voice than she’s heard since they put her in a dome and not all of her came out.

“Go away.” 

Annie stands firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

_ “Please,  _ Annie.” His voice hurts to listen to - she’s only ever heard him like this in his dreams, back when he was staying in this house to help her through her nightmares and she learned that he had demons chasing him in his sleep too. “Please - please, just go.”

She can’t leave him like this. She wants to pull him close to her, run her fingers through his hair like he always does for her, kiss his forehead over and over again until he feels safe. 

“Annie,  _ go.” _

She leaves him and runs upstairs. 

When she comes down an hour later to check, he’s gone and so is the envelope.

* * *

When Annie lies in bed that night she sees the fire through her window.

It’s coming from the beach - the Victor’s private beach, not the public beach she kissed Finnick on the other week. 

Intuition more than anything guides her outside. She doesn’t change into regular clothes, just throws a baggy sweater over her nightdress and walks barefoot toward the bonfire. 

Finnick is sitting near it, the tide washing over him. He’s not really dressed for it and his pants are getting soaked - Annie’s not sure whether he doesn’t notice or he just doesn’t care. 

She doesn’t sneak up on him but she doesn’t say anything as she cautiously approaches and sits near him, tucking her nightdress up her legs so that it doesn’t get wet as she lets the water lap at her feet.

“Are you okay?”

He doesn’t look at her. A strange not-smile pulls at his lips. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because you’re my friend and I care about you.” Annie answers, trying not to get impatient. She’s not used to this - it’s been a little over a year of her being the fragile one while he and Mags help keep her afloat. But she’ll do anything to take that haggard misery out of his voice.

Finnick shakes his head. “But you - you looked at them, right?”

There’s no point in denying it. Annie keeps her reply simple. “Yes.” 

He still won’t look at her. Just shakes his head again, hunching over more. Like he’s trying to make himself small which is a ridiculously impossible endeavor. He tucks his head into his knees and says, “I wish you hadn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” She wants to reach for his hand, but he’s squeezing his legs so hard she’s afraid if she tries to touch him he’ll fall apart again. “I didn’t - I stopped looking once I knew what they were. If that helps.”

“It doesn’t.”

Annie doesn’t know what to  _ do.  _ She thinks maybe she should tell him that it’s okay, that she isn’t judging him. He’s free to do what he wants, with who he wants. And he shouldn’t be ashamed of it. 

Something, she’s not sure what, stops her from saying any of those things.

Instead, it’s easier to ask. “Do you know who sent them?”

Finnick nods subtly and she can see a flash of his face when he does. “I think so.”

“Who?”

Impossibly, his arms tighten around his legs. “No.”

He’s not going to tell her. Annie pushes the frustration down, reminds herself that’s his right -  _ I’ve got no claim, no right  _ \- and presses on. “Can you tell me what they want? Are they - are you being blackmailed or do they want money or-”

Strangely, Finnick’s head pops up on the word  _ money  _ and he starts laughing. It’s not his nice happy-at-home laugh, or his decadent Capitol chuckle. 

No, this is ugly and hollow and makes Annie’s insides twist up. He keeps laughing until he starts to cry.

And Annie waits. She’s not sure what for, but he’s always been so patient with her. So she can give him this.

Eventually Finnick rides it out, his body too tired to shake anymore. He wipes at his splotchy face with his sleeve - she’s never seen him look this imperfect before. Annie keeps herself very still as he turns to her, eyes full of that familiar calculation.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She tells him, and now she does reach for his hand. He tugs it out of reach but doesn’t turtle up again. Just sits there and stretches his hand out into the water, watching as the ocean rinses over his fingers. 

“It’s not blackmail.” Finnick says finally, and he sounds so very, very tired and defeated. “It’s a warning.”

“A warning?” Annie reaches her hand out again - not toward him this time but toward the ocean as well.

“Yeah. For me - and I think probably for you too.” He closes his eyes. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Annie’s heart skips like a stone over waves. 

“I kissed  _ you.”  _ She corrects him, not sure what that has to do with anything.

“I kissed you back.” Finnick whispers, and under the water his pinky edges closer to hers. He looks at her now, finally, and his eyes are absolutely wrecked. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Because of me.” Her voice is thin and sad. “Because I’m crazy.”

“You’re  _ not  _ crazy.” He immediately replies and for the first time in hours he sounds like himself.

“But that’s what everyone else thinks.”

“Fuck what everyone else thinks.” He pushes his fingers further into the water, burying them in the wet sand. “Annie if it were up to me I’d - I wouldn’t have stopped. I never would’ve stopped.”

Annie thinks about what he told her on her tour, warnings in a low tone about how to behave, what to say. 

_ You have to give them what they want - and if you can’t do that then just make sure you don’t give them something they  _ don’t  _ want. _

“But it’s not what  _ they _ want.” Annie echoes his words from so many months ago. “It’s what they  _ don’t  _ want.”

“... yeah.”

“What  _ do _ they want?”

Finnick’s eyelashes are heavy and waterlogged as he looks at her through them. 

“Me.”

Annie pushes her pinky toward him under the water. She brushes against his and he doesn’t pull away.

“They want me.” His voice sounds small and childlike. “It’s not up to me. None of it is. I don’t get to - it’s all set up and I don’t get to choose.”

Even though it’s a warm summer night, the air turns to ice around Annie. She is submerged, the cold water of the dam rushing over her. 

“I don’t want them back, but I have to pretend. Act like I like it, that I like them. But I - I  _ hate them so fucking much.  _ I hate them and I hate it and I hate acting like I don’t want to hurt them and I just wish I could  _ stop.” _

_ Oh,  _ Annie thinks distantly.  _ There he is. _

Finnick slides into place then in front of her eyes - all his broken and jagged and mismatched pieces. He’s no longer different people to her: the mischievous boy who laughs with her after she dunks him into the ocean, the dogged tribute who bides his time in the arena and then kills without mercy when the time came to strike, the steady mentor who keeps his advice sharp and assurances soft, the plastic Capitol playboy who preens for the camera and seeks out the rich, the warm companion who makes her tea the way she likes it every morning and kicks sand playfully over her feet when they walk on the beach. 

No more enigmas, no more contradictions.

Just Finnick. Nothing else.

Annie reaches for him carefully, knotting their hands together under the water.

They sit there for a long time, Annie slowly tugging him toward her until he’s leaning against her for once, his breath tickling the hairs on her neck.

“I don’t have anything to give you.” He tells her, tired. “None of it, it’s not mine. Not mine to give.”

Annie kisses his hair. “No, shhh, that’s not true. That’s just what they want you to think.”

“I’m Capitol property.” She hates how detached he sounds about it. Like it’s just a casual fact. “Don’t even know how much I’m worth. Just know it’s not mine to give.”

“They don’t  _ own you.” _ Annie doesn’t know if she’s ever been this angry about anything. Ever. “They can - they can touch you and they can hurt you and they can even force you to do what they want but they can’t  _ own you,  _ Finnick. Not your heart. That’s just for you.”

“What if I want you to have it?”

Her own heart stutters at that. 

_ Then I’ll take it,  _ Annie wants to say, because oh how did she ever convince herself of otherwise? 

But - “I don’t want to be another person who takes something from you.” Annie says, because Finnick has never been so heartbreakingly  _ clear  _ to her up until this moment.

“‘S different.” He insists, pressing his nose into the skin of her collarbone. “Different if I give it to you.”

Then he would be left with nothing to call his own. Annie won’t do that to him. Won’t leave him just an empty shell, living and performing for everyone around him. He deserves some things for himself. 

“What if we share it?” She suggests, and when he lifts his head from her shoulder he’s  _ so close,  _ far closer than he’s been since their kiss. “And we can share mine too. And together they can be ours.”

“Just for us.” Finnick agrees, grazing the tip of her nose with his lips. Annie aches with relief when she sees that his eyes are bright again. 

She kisses his cheek and together they lay down, letting the waves wash over them as they stare up at the stars, their hands clasped together over Annie’s heart.

_ His heart now too,  _ Annie reminds herself, resting her forehead against Finnick’s. 

And even though it hurts - and  _ oh  _ how she wants to scream and rage against the evils and corruption that have hurt him, hurt them,  _ keep _ hurting the - the tears that fall down the side of her face into the water are the sweetest thing she’s ever tasted.

Because in that moment, it’s just the two of them. Nobody else in the entire world. Just Finnick and Annie.

And nothing has ever felt more right.

**Author's Note:**

> Finnick saying Annie isn't crazy has nothing to do with this one particular trope that I've seen where she's just 'faking it', but rather with the fact that calling anyone 'crazy' or 'mad' is harmful and ignores the nuances of mental health issues. 
> 
> Which... isn't really a nuance that they have in Panem, but Finnick recognizes that Annie is suffering from the Arena like most of the victors, her struggles are just more apparent and inconvenient to the Capitol, so she gets written off as 'mad.' In this series, Annie struggles with severe PTSD and dissociative tendencies, as she does in the book series.


End file.
